A Nord Fallen
by Aero255
Summary: The Land of Skyrim is host to many people, people like Comjul Achrin. This is his story. (Based off of "A True Nord by JacksDirtySecret)
1. Chapter 1

_This is a fanfiction inspired by "The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim" by Bethesda and "A True Nord" by JacksDirtySecret . This was written with JacksDirtySecrets permission, support and collaboration. Both "A True Nord" and The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim" are property of their respective creators and writers. I hope you enjoy Comjuls story._

Comjul Achrin is a nord. At just fifteen, he stood at about 5'8" or about a meter and a half tall. He has sky-blue eyes and black hair that he kept short. He stood on the porch of his family's home as wagons rolled into Helgen.

Catching sight of High Elves, he didn't know what the prisoners had done nor did he honestly care. He was sure it wasn't that bad though. Probably the worst offence any of them had committed was Talos worship.

He headed inside and to the table for some cheese and bread. A commotion outside reminded him that there was still an execution going on.

Wait. Did he smell something burning? Was that burning meat mixed in? He dropped the food and went back outside. The town was now chaos, with fires burning all around.

"Comjul!" A female voice called out. He looked, it was his mother. "Back inside, now!" She called.

He was almost in when a wall fell on the house. He spun to look back at his mother only to see her engulfed in flames. He screamed for her as she fell. He ran for her but his father grabbed him and pulled him aside. "I love her too son but there's nothing you can do!' His father said as the dragon roared again. "Now come on!"

With that, the pair ran across the street to the next set of houses. Comjul didn't know what was happening. Had the war found them? Was this some sort of stormcloak trick, or weapon? Both sides seemed to be taking heavy casualties from this attack, whatever was going on.

They made their way through a destroyed building and looked at the gate. "Home stretch Comjul, I'll go first." His father ran for the gate but was snatched up in a streak of blackness from above. Comjul froze. He would die. His parents were... by the gods his mother. He began to break down, when he heard a man yell at him.

"This way boy, if you want to live!" The voice said. He looked to see a rather well dressed man waving.

He followed as the man worked through what was once the inn, then went into the basement where a few Stormcloaks were. "What we gonna do Jarl Ulfric?" A man asked.

" Patience. It is the key to any victory." Ulfric replied. "Get this boy geared up. It's not going to be easy getting out of here."

They handed Comjul a war axe, a helmet and some gauntlets. Beyond this, he was on his own. The helmet fit loose and only got in his line of sight, the gauntlets fit very loosely and he swung the axe a few times only to be met with one man irritably blocking his blow so he didn't over swing and end up with it planted in either himself or the men behind him.

He quit and looked around. Men were talking. The man who blocked his blow scolding him for being so careless with a blade. Other bits Comjul heard were fragmented.

"...miracle if he makes it out a live with sk-..."

"...sloppy, what sort of a Nord doesn't know how to use an axe?"

After a few minutes, Ulfric called for attention. "I know it's bad but the Empire is probably ready with reinforcements. We need to leave if that dragon is all we want to worry about." He drew his axe and took point. Comjul was herded between the men as they made their way between the destroyed buildings and towards a gate. There were six men in their party.

Most of the stormcloaks did their best to protect the boy. There were Imperials everywhere, or so it seemed to Comjul.

He wondered if this is what battle was like. Just pure chaos?

One of the men to his left yelped and hit the ground an arrow sticking out of his chest. The man on his right was next. He had taken his eyes off the man he was sparring with and paid the price. A female Stormcloak with a bow made short work of the enemy archer. Ulfric had spun around and yelled "FUS RO DAH!" The swordsman in front of them went flying back.

The group continued moving towards the gate. Some imperials had garrisoned themselves on the wall. One of the men switched over from an axe to a bow and sent a flurry of arrows their way.

"On my mark! Run for the gate! Ready?" Ulfric yelled. "GO!"

The group ran. Once Comjul was outside the gate, he took a hard right and followed along the wall until he couldn't see the imperials anymore. He then found a bush and hid in it.

It had taken them twenty minutes to get through the former city of Helgen.

Once outside, Comjul finds a bush to hide in.

"Come here boy." A familiar voice said. Ulfric stood there with a surprisingly gentle look on his face. "Let's go find your family." He said holding out a hand.

"I have no Ma or Da..." Camjul said, his voice trailing off.

"I understand." Ulfric said with a nod. "Any family in Skyrim?"

Camjul shook his head.

"Come then. I'll be your family." The Jarl sighed.

"But I don't look like you." Camjul protested, still shaken.

"Then consider me an uncle." Ulfric said. With that, Camjul accepted Ulfrics outstretched hand.

***FIVE YEARS LATER***

"Wake up! I said wake up maggot!" A mans voice rang out.

"Ssssir?!" Was Comjuls sleepy response.

"The empire is attacking! This is not a drill! On your feet now!" The man yelled.

Comjul hurried to get his armor on and rose up to his full height of 6'5" or around two meters tall. He then charged outside.

Stormcloaks were running about. He nearly made it to the gates, when they seemed to explode open. He almost immediately heard someone scream. "Fall back!"

The whole army retreated in practiced order, taking up defensive positions. Comjuls group was to hold the Stone Quarter against the invading forces. He himself was by the blacksmith shop. The imperials slammed into his ranks. In the distance he heard a thundering sound and men cry out.

They stood in orderly rows until an arrow found its way into Jarvn. After that, the swordsmen hit. He blocked a blow with his shield and swung his sword sideways in a sweeping right to left arc at his opponent. The man parried with his greatsword. That was the opening he needed. Comjul slammed his shield into the mans neck between his helmet and chest collapsed immediately.

The next Imperial was armed with an axe and guarded by a shield. Comjul was the first to strike this time. His newest opponent blocked it with his shield, then struck back. Comjul blocked the slash easily when he heard a yell. He glanced over to see that Balen was down. Donin was still going strong but was surrounded. Comjul had two other men moving in on him. It was time to go.

He turned and ran through the forge to the next blockade. He arrived too late. The imperials were already shooting arrows at the men. Comjul just kept running, even through Valunstrad only slowing to glance at his fallen Stormcloak brothers.

The rest of his trek to the Palace of the Kings was uneventful despite his growing nervousness as he passed more bodies.

He had barely opened the door when he saw Jarl Ulfric on the floor with two high ranking imperials and a man in black armor looming over him.

If Comjul wanted to live he'd have to run. And run he did. He didn't stop for the imperial swordsmen who tried to stand in his way. Or even the archer that put an arrow in his arm. Comjul didn't stop running, not even when he was out of the city. Comjul ran


	2. Chapter 2

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter Two<br>Into the Rift

Comjul Achrin ran and ran and ran. He avoided roads and travelers as best he could. He ran until his legs ultimately gave out. He lay there in the wilds of Skyrim, not knowing where he was or what time it was. He didn't care. The man he had come to know as his uncle was gone. Ulfric was dead. He lay there and cried. He had nothing and no one. All the family he had ever known was dead.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep. When he awoke he was still very sore, but the sun was shining brightly.

He knew the war was over now, with Ulfric dead. He thought it best to remove his Stormcloak armor. The Stormcloaks had been the only family he had known for years, they had gotten him out of Helgen. But he knew it was in his best interests to not brand himself a traitor. The time of the Stormcloaks was in the past and he needed to move on, no matter how badly he wished to change the past.

A sharp twinge in his arm reminded him of the arrow he took. He grimaced. His skin had already started to close around it. On the positive side, he wasn't bleeding anymore. However, it was really going to hurt getting it out. He removed his gauntlet from his uninjured arm, and used his sword to cut the gauntlet off of his injured arm, as carefully as he could.

Now came the unpleasant part. As carefully as he could, he broke the back of the arrow off and as quickly as he could bear, pushed the arrow the rest of the way through. He grimaced as he scanned the area for something to help the healing process. Finding nothing, he wrapped his intact around the wound as a makeshift bandage.

He removed his armor, tossing away everything but his boots and sword. He felt naked wearing only a pair of thin pants and a tattered shirt.

He took in his surroundings. Judging by the landscape, he guessed he was south of Riften. He decided that was as good a place to start over as any. Riften was an old, rundown, rat infested hole, but he could make a living there. If not in the town itself, then certainly in the Ratways.

He wished he had grabbed the map of Skyrim before he left Windhelm. He knelt down and drew a rough map from memory with a stick, tracing it with a nearby stick. He tried to calculate his location by how fast he had run and for how long. He sighed, wishing he had a better guess.

Now that he was dressed in civilian clothing, he would be able to use the main roads without too many problems.

He stood upright, hearing running water. That reminded him how thirsty he was. He went over a small hill, where he found a fast moving river. He knelt and drank until he heard a commotion. A rock hit him in the back. He looked up and saw a troll trying to scare him away.

A troll would be as fitting a way to die as any. He mused to himself as he rose to his feet. He drew his sword and contemplated the quickest way to the troll. He took in his surroundings and quickly realized that there were fairly evenly spaced rocks spanning across the river. He could easily jump from one to the other to reach the other side.

Comjul lined up the jump and ran for it. He was pleased that his plan for crossing the river had worked so well but he realized a moment too late that perhaps it wasn't the best battle strategy. The troll was waiting for him as soon as he leapt onto the bank.

It grabbed him in its oversized hands and began to shake him around as if he weighed nothing. Comjul was focused. He stared at the trolls third eye and decided to test if that was the trolls weak spot.

"Bet that would hurt." He mumbled aloud. He jammed his sword into his target and the troll dropped. Comjul landed on his feet, only to be taken down by the troll collapsing onto him. So much for that death.

He rolled the troll off of him with a grunt and set to work cutting large chunks of fat off of its belly. Hopefully the fat would fetch him some coin. He wrapped the fat up in some of the trolls skin.

He noticed a cave nearby and looked inside. There was a dead deer and some dead Stormcloak soldiers. It appeared the troll had killed them all.

Comjul skinned the deer and looted his fallen comrades for anything useful, but made sure to take nothing that would die him to the Stormcloaks. He took their weapons and a book. At least he'd be able to afford a room for at least one night.

He looked up and down the trail he was near and determined it to be free of threats. It was time for him to get moving.

It wasn't long before he arrived at Ivarstead. Imperial guards were walking around. He quickened his pace out if reflex. He needed to get away from the Imperial dogs. Once across the bridge, he took a quick look at the road sign and headed for Riften.

Comjul followed the road signs. Only a wolf and a frostbite spider gave him trouble. He was quite entertained by a Kajhiit who called himself M'aiq for a brief while. He had to fight hard to keep from killing some imperial guards he saw walking the road.

Come dusk he wasn't quite half way there by his estimation. He gathered wood and made a small, but warming fire.

He cooked and ate what little meat he had pulled off of the deer, then curled around the fire for the night. He stretched out the wolf pelt and deer skin to dry by the fire.

A frostbite spider awoke him before dawn. The fire had burned itself out. He rolled to his feet and with a quick downward thrust to its head, killed it. He figured it was close to 5 am so, he continued his journey. He rolled up the skins and made his way down the dim road.

Two hours later, he spotted an Argonian. The lizard was in full iron battledress. It looked at Camjul with narrowed eyes and pulled out a sword and an axe. Comjul drew his sword, not wanting to use it. He walked with it by his side, hoping to simply walk by the thing.

But the Argonian was having none of that. It hissed as it ran for Comjul. Comjul was ready, already in a defensive stance. The lizard swung the sword. Comjul blocked his blow easily with his own sword. He rotated his sword around the Argonians, knocking it from its hand. Comjul swung with all he had at the lizard. His blow was blocked with the axe, but the Argonian felt the force of the blow. It stumbled back, trying to regain its footing. Comjul stabbed the thing between its armor, under its arm. It fell dead as he yanked his sword out. Well, now he had armor that didn't identify him as a Stormcloak.

He donned it, feeling awkward in metal skin. But it was better than the rags he had. He continued on.

He made it to a lake without much trouble. He looked around as he approached, then hit his knees and drank to his hearts content.

He made it to Riften around 10 that morning. First things first he decided. He needed to sell his surplus items for gold so he could rent a room. He walked to the plaza in the center of town and leaned against the railing, watching and listening.

His ears were assaulted with beggars pleading and shopkeepers pedaling their goods. He sold what he could, then returned to watching and listening. He was getting really annoyed how the imperials were looking at him.

He went into the inn got a room, food, and some drinks. Tonight, he needed to forget. Tonight, he would drink himself stupid.


	3. Chapter 3

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter 3<br>In The Bowels

Comjul awakens but doesn't open his eyes. He's enjoying a bed for the first time in a couple of days. He buried his head in the soft furry pillow happily, before lifting his head.

He was outside. The "pillow" was a dead spiders abdomen. What did he do last night?

Comjul rolled away and forced himself up. His head pounded and he felt extremely dizzy. "Why did I do that last night?" He thought to himself.

He looked around and found he wasn't that far away from the road. He walked up to it in a matter of seconds. He looked up and down the road to gauge his location. He realized he wasn't that far from Riften and started his trek back to the Bee and Barb inn.

As he went, he noticed something on the bank of the lake. It looked like a pile of clothing. When he approached it, he realized it was a women. He ran to her, kneeling to take off her hood. He leaned in close to listen for breathing. It was there but very shallow. An arrow in her chest was what Comjul assumed to be the problem.

He broke off the arrow, an inch from her chest. Then, he scooped the women up and took her back to Riften. He moved as quickly as he could, trying not to jostle her. He arrived to the Inn quickly.

He lay her on the bench and approached the Argonian who ran the inn.

"No, go away! You're not welcome here!" The Argonian maiden said angrily.

"What? Oh last night? I don't know what happened but I'm paying for it today. Do you know who that woman is?" He asked impatiently, motioning to the women on the bench.

"Not personally, but she's thieves guild trash! Now go away!" The Argonian spat. Comjul sighed in frustration and turned around. A beautiful young woman stood behind him, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"Sapphire's the name, and hers?" She motioned to the bench. "Is Vex. C'mon, I'll show you the way to the Ragged Flagon." She said, heading out of the inn.

Comjul followed Sapphire through the Ratway, to the Ragged Flagon. A tall blond man with a flat nose just glared at Comjul, while a Breton man with a shaved head moved away quickly towards what appeared to be a broom closet. The bartender swept off his counter, leaving space for Comjul to lay Vex down gingerly.

"What did you do?" The flat nosed Nord asked aggressively

"To what?" Comjul asked obstinately, simply because he didn't like the mans tone.

Comjul kept a eye on flat nosed man but also on Vex. The bartender was applying what little healing he knew as a pretty Redguard woman ran after the Breton man. What was in that broom closet?

"To her! Are you stupid!?"

"Well, last night I was...woke up on a frostbite spider."

The Nord was clearly incredibly agitated, but when he was about to do something (what he planned to do, Comjul couldn't tell.) a voice behind him said simply "Dirge, down."

The man growled and stomped off. "I'm Brynjolf." The man said, approaching Comjul. "Now, tell me what happened."

Comjul looked Brynjolf up and down. This man seemed to have a head on his shoulders. Comjul could respect that. "I've been through a hard time, decided to drink myself stupid and when I woke up I was in the wilds. When I was headed back to town, I found Vex and carried her back to the inn. Sapphire saw me and led me down here." Comjul replied.

Brynjolf just mumbled something about a golden glow and said "thank you." The red headed man handed him a small coin purse. Then turned to Vex as the Redguard woman came back with a healer. The Breton with the shaved head trailed after her.

Comjul turned to him. "What was she doing in the lake?" He asked.

"That's Guild business." The man replied evasively.

"Oh I do a good deed and it is only worth coins huh?" Comjul snapped, annoyed.

"This is business, not a charity." The Breton said, and sat down to watch the healer work.

Comjul sighed and tracked back to the surface. "What was she doing?" He wondered aloud.

Comjul went and collected his things from the inn and traveled to where he had found Vex to stare and think.

Some time later, he heard a voice ask "Why are you out here?"

He turned around to see Sapphire. "What was she doing? How did she end up like that?" He asked.

"Business." Came the curt reply.

"Shut up Brynjolf." Comjul mocked sarcastically as he scowled.

"Forget my name already?" Sapphire countered dismissively, looking annoyed.

"No." Comjul admitted. "But I want details and all you people are telling me is 'business'." Comjul sighed.

"Well if you must know she went in to teach the owner of Goldenglow Estate a lesson. They cut Maven out of a deal and she contracted us to fix the problem." Sapphire said.

"Details being...?" Comjul prodded, wondering who Maven was. She must be very powerful to hire the Thieves guild to teach someone a lesson. That couldn't be cheap.

"Burn three beehives and grab the stuff in the safe." Sapphire said simply. "But it's a lot harder than it sounds."

"Do you have a lockpick?" Comjul asked.

"A what?" The brunette woman asked with a frown.

"Lockpick." Comjul repeated.

"Yes but wha-"

"Give it." Comjul said holding out a hand.

"What? Why?!" She asked.

"I'm going in and I'll need it. Give it here." He said staring at her, impatient.

She hesitantly reached into her pocket and handed it to him. He went by the lake and took his armor off, leaving him in the ratty rags he was in when he woke up that day. Armed with only his sword, it was time to wait for nightfall.

When the last of the suns rays faded, he got up and hit the water. He swam around the island twice before he noticed a sewer grate. He pried it open and entered.

He wasn't far into the damp tunnel when he had a skeever attack. He killed it quickly, then heard a growl. He looked over, only to see a flash of red eyes in the darkness. He swung his sword and another skeever slid, dead, into the light. Comjul looked at it for a moment, then continued on. The next tunnel to his right, he spotted a tripwire and noticed a lantern hanging overhead further down the tunnel. He smiled when he noticed the oil under his feet.

He stepped on the wire and took cover in a small alcove as the oil burst into flames. He heard the screams of a few more skeevers as they died. This was going to be easy. He mused to himself.

A couple of skeevers later, he headed down the next tunnel confidently. Unfortunately, he missed another tripwire a ball of spikes fell down and nicked his leg. He sighed, irritated with himself, as blood trickled down his leg.

The rest of the trek was uneventful. He reached the surface and snuck over to the front door. He carefully used the one lock pick he had until he heard the lock make a tell-tale click. He entered the house quietly.

He snuck down the hall and saw what could only be a mercenary sitting there. Comjul crept forward and froze. He quickly back pedaled until he was pressed against the wall. There were three. Two were sitting down and one was roaming the hall loudly. He slipped through what looked to be a dining room and peeked around the corner, his back still pressed to the wall. He had a visual on the other man who was patrolling.

When his path was clear, he headed up the stairs and through the door. The next room was clear, and he forged on. Through a hall, past a closet and into another hallway. a man stood guard back, with his back to Comjul.

Comjul briefly considered killing him, but decided against it, as he didn't want to alert the other guards.

Instead, he to travel through the room to the left. It looked to be a makeshift barracks for a couple of the men here. He moved on towards the door at the other end of the room.

It lead back out to the hall where the guard was. Luckily for Comjul, a wardrobe stood between them. He stuck to the wall to his right, and headed south along the wall to a doorway. He went in and found himself with two choices; the door at the end of the hall or the one to his left. He opted for the door on the left. He peeked around the corner and spotted a man who was sitting at a table, his back turned to the door. Were these guys amateurs?

He turned around with a sigh and continued for the door at the end of the hall. Another makeshift barracks, but this one held only a man sleeping in it with no other doors. Frustrated, he turned for the first door again.

He snuck past the man in the chair easily and made it to the double doors on the other side of the room. He entered as quietly as he could and looked around. Only a small man was inside. He assumed this man to be the owner of the estate. He was fast asleep in bed.

Comjul snuck up and looked through his belongings on the bedside table. Only a key looked helpful. He looked around the room but found nothing more of use. He turned and snuck past the guy in the chair and the guard in the hall, headed back to the first floor.

He headed back through the dinning room to avoid the guard in that hall. He stood with his back to the wall barely peeking around the corner for him. Comjul heard him before he saw him. He was still walking the length of the hallway. Once the guard was headed back for the other end of the hall, Comjul moved for the gate. He used the key to get in and was on the bottom floor, which was empty, thankfully.

He headed for the next room. This room was empty of threats except for a man at the other end of the room. He snuck towards a door closer to him. Inside was a hall that connected to another hallway. He chose to turn left. Only a storage room. He headed back the other way. He went past a couple of chairs and a book case and appeared behind the man in a chair. The only other exit from the room, the man was watching. Finally, someone with some brains. Too bad he was watching the wrong door.

Now how to get by...

He looked at the floor and noticed the same oil he had encountered before and...a broom. He smiled. Things were about to get chaotic.

He soaked the broom in the oil, then held it up to a one of the torches that lit the dim room. It burst into flames and he threw it past the man in the chair. The guard immediately started to panic and scream, as he franticly worked to get it out.

Comjul ran for the stairs while the man was distracted. They led to a room with a safe. He tried the key. Amazingly, it worked. He emptied it, finding a deed and some coin.

Now to leave, before the milk-drinkers upstairs came looking. He looked around a gate in the room, through it he spotted a hole. He bet that dropped down into the sewer.

He ran for it, and sure enough, into the sewer he went. "Now for the beehives."He thought. He contemplated how to get there, hoping most of the mercenaries were too busy scouring the house.

He reach the surface again and decided to jump back into the lake. The camp just had way too much activity for his liking.

He swam around the island until he found a way up the cliffs. He climbed up, then stopped. "Now how to set these things on fire?"

He looked around and found a torch the mercenaries used to illuminate the camp. He set three of the apiaries ablaze and ran, leaving the entire estate in chaos.

"There". He thought. "The place has been hit and they won't need to send that poor girl into that dangerous situation again."

He headed back to the shore for his armor. Once he had pulled it on, he walked back towards Riften. He was headed straight for the Ragged Flagon to check on Vex and report his success.


	4. Chapter 4

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter 4<br>Bad Company

Comjul entered the Ragged Flagon, heading for the short Breton man that he had seen before.

Dirge growled when he walked by. Comjul smirked back.

Comjul lay the Goldenglow Estate key, along with the deed and the coin from the safe, all down on the table without a word. The Breton stared at Comjul for a moment, then reach for the deed cautiously. Comjul didn't move, so he picked it up and read. "Oh my. Where did you get this?" He asked, peering at Comjul in surprise.

"Take a guess." Comjul replied in a bored tone.

The mans eyes widened. "But even Vex couldn't...how did you..."

"I have my ways." Comjul said simply. The man stared but when Comjul didn't elaborate, he nodded and stood, leaving the coin and key there.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll be back." He said, heading off to the broom closet everyone seemed so fond of.

A few minutes later, Brynjolf came out of the aforementioned broom closet. "Just couldn't leave well enough alone could you lad." The tall man said, sounding amused.

"I couldn't let another get hurt, when I had the skill to do the job." Comjul said sharply.

Brynjulf eyed him. "Follow me." He said simply and went for the broom closet. Comjul followed. Comjul noted that it was, in fact, a broom closet. But it also had another door on the opposite side as the entryway. This was the door Brynjolf led him through.

"We hit some hard times as of late. This is the first good news we've had in a long time." Brynjolf said, stepping into a very large room. Comjul looked around him and understood what the thief meant. They stopped in front of a pale Breton man with gray and brown hair just under his chin. He looked interested in Comjul. Brynjolf introduced him as Mercer Frey.

"So you hit Goldenglow huh? Good work." Mercer said. "Welcome to the Guild. Get your new armor from Tonilia. Vex and Delvin have extra jobs to do." And with that Mercer reterned to what he was working on, dismissing Comjul with a wave of his hand.

"Welcome to the Guild lad." Brynjolf said. "We don't have anything right now that needs your attention, but I'm sure we will soon." The red haired Nord started to walk away.

"How's Vex?" Comjul asked.

Brynjolf froze. "Compassion? Not something that will get you far in this business lad." He said with a sigh. "But she's doing well." He pointed toward a bed with her in it, then continued on his trek away.

Comjul went back out to the Ragged Flagon, and after a quick game of who's who with the bartender, he began his search for the Redguard woman who had his new armor.

Comjul aproched Tonilia. He relayed to her what Brynjolf had said.

"So you do the job Vex couldn't and you're in huh?" She asked. "So here's your armor. That's the only free set, any replacements or upgrades, you need to buy."

"Thank you ma'am!" Comjul said instinctively. The women eyed him coldly, then promptly ignored him.

He turned and headed for Delvin, the short bald Breton."Let me guess Bynjolf just plucked you off the street and dropped you into the thick of things, without telling you which way is up am I right?" He asked as Comjul approached.

"No sir, you're not." Comjul said flatly. "Heard you had jobs available."

"I handle the Fishin', the Numbers and Bedlam jobs. The ones with a more personal touch. If break-ins are more your style, go talk to Vex. Once she's feelin' better, of course."

"Bedlam jobs?" Comjul asked, sounding intrigued.

"Sometimes, we just like to remind a city that we mean business. Just take whatever you can within the hold and the best part is you get to keep everything you steal. Catch is, you gotta stay in the shadows, don't let anyone see you. So, you in?" Delvin asked.

"Consider it done." Comjul responded. "Where to?"

"Down to business huh? We need more like you. Solitude, sha-...hey where you going? Don't you want to hear how much?"

"Shall we say a thousand septims in goods?" If not more, he thought to himself. This was, after all, the home of the Imperial dogs.

"I was gonna say five hundred bu-"

Comjul didn't hear the rest. It was time for a job.


	5. Chapter 5

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter 5<br>Looking the Enemy in the Eye

Comjul slept the few hours before dawn broke, then he got up and headed for the market through the Guilds secret entrance that led into the cemetery.

He sold his "metal skin" and got some good clothes from a rather ornery woman who insisted that he hadn't spent enough gold. He shut her up with a single look.

He returned to the Guild, found a private spot and changed into the clothes. He wrapped the armor the Guild had given him into a deer hide and headed for the southern gate.

Time to blend in with the crowd. He smirked.

He rented the carriage to Solitude. The trip was long, bumpy and uneventful.

Once he had arrived at the large city, he walked through the stone gates and looked around. He walked into The Winking Skeever, needing a place to stay. He approached the bar where the innkeeper stood. He was a mid-sized red haired Nord. "If you need a good rumor or two, I think I can oblige." He greeted Comjul with a wide grin.

"No. I'm just new here, need a room until I can find more permanent housing."Comjul said quietly.

"10 septims a night." The man said quickly. Comjul nodded and lay down 100 septims. "Planning on staying at the inn a while huh?"

"I don't how how long, but this should cover food costs and a bed." Comjul said vaguely.

"Smart." The red haired man said with a nod.

Business concluded, Comjul was almost sorry. He loomed around the inn and noticed a rather unpleasant noise coming from the corner. It was a woman, he realized. She was singing. The plain looking bard was singing "The Age of Aggression". It took every ounce of self control he had to walk outside. He wanted so badly to kill the woman who was singing.

"Down Ulfric, the killer of kings  
>On the day of your death we'll drink and we'll sing<br>We're the childr-"

He shut the door behind him, cutting off the horrid caterwauling. Comjul balled his fists and sighed, trying to compose himself. He checked if the guards had noticed his behavior. They all seemed too complacent to take note. He forced himself to relax and unclench his fists. It was time to do what he had been trained for in the Stormcloaks.

Comjul spent a week in the enemy city. Watching, listening, waiting.

He knew Vivienne Onis was a Breton who hated all Stormcloaks... She worked at the alchemy shop.

He knew that the children of Solitude seemed to be playing an endless game of Tag, regardless of the time of day. He had even been asked to join.

He knew Jaree-Ra was always hanging around outside of Angeline's Aromatics, trying to attract a travelers eye for some nefarious purpose. He ignored the Argonian on multiple occasions.

He knew Greta, a Nord woman, almost seemed to agree with the Stormcloaks. If Ulfric wasn't dead and the Stormcloaks all but disbanded, she'd probably go join them.

He also knew the shops by the well opened at 6:00am and closed at 8:00pm. He also overheard that Octieve San owed Irskar Ironhand lot of money.

He knew the smith, Beirand, closed shop at 10:00pm and his wife's shop, Bits and Pieces, closed when Beirand got home and reopened when he headed for work again at 8:00 am.

Comjul noted that the city streets were empty between the hours of 10:00pm and 6:00am.

Most of all he, he gave attention to the guards. They changed shifts at dusk, and at dawn. Two of them patrolled the market place. They tried to stay at opposite ends of the path they walked, trying to mirror one another. Comjul guessed it took the guards about ten minutes to walk one full circle. Which was perfect because that was more than he needed.

After the week was out, he was ready. He lay down in his bed the last day and waited until dark. That night he would go on the greatest heist of his life!

He woke up around 11:00pm and changed into his Thieves Guild armor. Then he proceeded to bag up all that he could in his room. He quickly moved through the empty streets of the city. His first stop, the smithing shop. Surely armor was the fastest way to get his total of goods up?

Deciding that he had taken enough from Beirand and his family, he skipped over Bits and Pieces, moving on to Radiant Rainment. He robbed the High Elves blind, even taking precious time to pick the lock on their strong box.

Figuring he had enough goods to meet the requirements of the Guild, he headed through the gate quickly and ran like he did from Windhelm. He ran, and ran and ran.

When he was far enough away from Solitude, he stopped by the side of the road and he changed into some normal clothes. Then he walked back to Riften at a slower, calmer pace.


	6. Chapter 6

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter 6<br>Loose Ends

Days turned to weeks, then months passed as he became accustomed to his life in the Thieves Guild. He had even made a few friends in the cities to cover the Guilds indiscretions. Not in every city but enough of them to make a difference and increase profits.

Sapphire seemed to look forward to seeing what he brought in, and he had become rather fond of her as well. Even Maven Black-Briar seemed to get a hint of a smile when she spoke to him.

He stood in Markarth. Alone, he wore Markarth guard armor that he had swiped the day before from the barracks, on another bedlam job. For some reason, he enjoyed those the most. No one would cover him here if he got busted, however. But that what he was used to. That's how he liked it.

With his quota met for stolen goods, it was time to leave. He had been virtually unrecognizable and roamed the city as he pleased in the uniform. Even though a guard had tried to talk to him and almost made him as an imposter a few times.

He left Markarth without incident. As he crossed the bridge he heard screaming. He peered over and saw two men fighting with what he assumed to be a women. Were they attempting to force themselves on her? He was going to put a stop to it, no matter what they were doing.

Comjul jumped from the bridge to the shore just above the water. One turned immediately and Comjul beheaded him almost instantly. The other turned and blocked Comjuls blow, but being on the ground Comjul had the advantage and both combatants knew it.

Comjul continued to swing, striking from different angles using his height and his skills to his advantage. Both helped him to move with more precision and faster than the other man. He quickly landed the killing blow into the mans back.

The woman looked up at him with wide eyes and a tear streaked face as he heard another woman's voice. "Aw you ruined their fun and my entertainment."

Comjul looked up to see a female Forsworn battle mage standing at the top of the bridge.

"When did she get there?" He pondered. Then he whispered quietly to the woman he had just saved. "Run!" He ordered. She stumbled to her feet and began running as fast as she could, while Comjul ran for the mage.

She seemed taken aback for a moment but managed to get a flame spell off before Comjul reached her.

He dropped his slightly singed shield and grabbed her by the back of her hair, pinning her arms and immobilizing her. "How about I have some fun with you?" He whispered in her ear, angrily, through clenched teeth.

She didn't say a word but tried to fight her way away from him. He yanked back on her hair which ended her resistance. He cut her clothes off with his sword, not caring if he harmed her in the process.

She began to whimper and cry as each movement she made caused his sword to bite into her skin. She sported many small cuts along her hips, chest and sides. He stopped himself there, refusing to let his rage take over. He hated what those people had been doing. How could he sink down to their level? Besides, he had made his point.

He sheathed his sword, though her diamond necklace caught his eye. He grabbed it and released her. She tumbled to the ground in a heap and her own weight snapped the gold chain from around her neck. He walked away, leaving the woman sobbing on the remnants of her armor.

Once out of sight and earshot of the horrified Forsworn, he changed back into his Guild armor.

The rest of the trip was largely uneventful, except for another run in with M'aiq, who was rambling something about snow falling down. "What an idiot." He thought.

In Riften, he was glad to be home with the Guild at his back. Too bad he wasn't in the Flagon yet. He headed for the secret entrance when he heard a commotion in the market. "What now?" He wondered, as he went to check it out.

A old hag had a young girl by her copper colored hair. "...- it until we get back to the orphanage you're going to get the beating of your life!" The woman shrieked, as the girl fought best she could.

The young lady couldn't have been much younger than himself, probably close to aging out of the orphanage.

Comjul grabbed the hilt of his sword and pulled it so the scabbard was at an angle from him and the hilt was right in front of his groin as he approached. One hand on the hilt the other over the first.

He spotted the reflection from his blade and said in a level, firm tone "I'd suggest letting the maiden go."

"Why? What are you going to do about it?!" The old bag bellowed.

Comjul noted the guards as she spoke. "This could go bad fast." He thought to himself. He tilted his wrist until the gleam from his blade caught the dreadful woman's eyes, making her squint. "Fine, but the urchin can't come back!" The old women said releasing the young girl.

The young lady took off at a dead run, and the old women moved as fast as she could to the Keep. Probably to complain. Good thing Maven liked him.

He continued on into the Guild. Dirge still glared at him when he appeared and Comjul always shot him a smirk when they passed.

Vex was up and she always seemed to smile at him when she thought no one was looking. Delvin nodded as he came in. He didn't even question Comjul anymore, just handed him coin and said "Maven loved that sapphire necklace you brought in a couple of weeks ago. Fell right in love with it she did. And the coin didn't hurt either." He said with a smile.

"Good to know. Glad she liked it." Comjul said taking the gold. He then headed over to see Tonilia.

"Did you bring me another pretty necklace?" She asked as Comjul approached.

"Yes actually, I did." He replied with a smirk, holding the diamond necklace up for her to see.

"I'd say. Still don't have anyone to give it too huh?" She teased, reaching for her coin purse in her vest.

"Nah I'm having too much fun." Comjul replied, laying all he'd stolen out for her to examine.

She looked over the loot and counted out the appropriate amount of coins for his goods.

He took the coin without a word. He was beyond exhausted from the days events. He headed for the cistern, a bed had his name on it.


	7. Chapter 7

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter Seven<br>A False Vow

Comjul woke, feeling well rested, the next morning. At least he assumed it was morning. In the Cistern it was a little hard to tell.

The only person in his field of sight was Sapphire, who seemed to look away when she realized his eyes were opening. "I'm not that ugly." He groaned, sitting up.

"You're not looking at you." She teased. "Sleep well?"

"I guess. Little hard with people talking." He complained.

"Well, we can't all be mutes." She snapped back.

"I can fix that." He stood and began walking to wake himself up. She followed, irritated.

"You're not that heartless." She said.

"No? Wanna put it to the test?" He teased.

"Gods you sound like the bandits." She hissed.

"Easy, I was jesting." Comjul said, stopping short. "I'm not like them at all."

"What would you know? Your parents were eaten, it's not like you know what its like." Sapphire snapped dismissively.

"I know what its like." He said simply, his own irritation growing.

"I'm so sure." She snarled sarcastically. "Just like Ulfric gave you a good life, right? Until he got what was coming to him. And you? Didn't you take an oath to fight to the death for him? Hmm good job with that one." She railed, cruelly.

Comjul snapped. "Ulfric was a hero to Skyrim! We fought for freedom and the ability to worship who we wanted, for a King who willing to die before he gave up our freedoms!" Comjul hollered. "As for my parents." He snarled in cold, though hushed tone, "At least they died honorably and didn't p*** off bandits and bring about there own death."

At that point Sapphire lost it and tried to slap him.

He caught her hand and pushed her to a wall. "I have honor, I don't fight over words, I have never killed needlessly. You, though? You have killed for anger, when you could have simply ran."

At that point, he heard a sword being drawn from its sheath.

Without a moments hesitation, he dropped Sapphire to the ground and unsheathed his own sword. Thrynn stood glaring at Comjul. He took in his surroundings and realized that the whole Guild was staring at them. Thrynn took advantage of Comjuls distraction and swung left to right diagonally. Comjul jumped back to where Sapphire was standing, then leapt forward. He jabbed his blade forward, pressing into his opponents chest easily. Thrynn slumped over, dead before he hit the ground.

Comjul yanked his sword out of the corpse and started for the secret entrance on the opposite side of the Cistern.

He started across, but Mercer Frey met him halfway, standing on the large stone circle in the center of the Cistern.

Comjul didn't want a fight but judging by Mercers posture, he didn't have much of a choice. Mercers sparkling sword meant it was enchanted. Comjul didn't know with what but he really didn't want to find out.

Comjul blocked the first blow, then dodged the dagger that he knew would follow. He returned the swing, attempting to hit Mercer in the sword arm, but Mercer jumped back. They stared at each other, before Mercer moved to the right about two feet. He then attacked Comjul ferociously. Comjul knew that he had water behind him, but thats what he counted on as a plan formulated in his mind.

Mercer jumped forward swinging his sword. Comjul blocked it, knowing the dagger was right behind it. He jumped back into the water and Mercer slashed forward with all his might and ended up planting his own dagger into his right thigh from the momentum. He went to the ground with a yell and Comjul jumped back up onto the platform. He placed his sword at Mercers neck.

"What are ya doin lad?" Brynjolf asked in a calm voice, approaching with his weapon drawn.

"Defending myself." Comjul said honestly.

"You killed Thrynn!" Brynjolf barked.

"He attacked me! As did Mercer here." Comjul defended, tilting his head towards the old Breton for emphasis.

"Let Mercer go." Brynjolf commanded.

"Let me walk out of here." Comjul countered.

"What makes you think we're gonna do that lad?" Brynjolf growled.

"Cause otherwise Mercer dies." Comjul declared, letting the blade rest on Mercers adams apple.

Brynjulf motioned with his hand, and Cynric moved back to allow Comjul through.

Comjul moved as far as he could, while still keeping his sword to Mercers throat. Then, as if on some unheard command, broke into a run for the ladder. No one followed him.

Comjul sheathed his sword on his way up the ladder exited without incident. He headed for the south gate and left the city of Riften behind.

Comjul ran and ran. He was becoming accustomed to running. Making random turns now and then to throw anyone pursuing him off of his tail, he was careful to keep track of where he was.

Comjul ran for an hour, always changing direction and speed. When he figured he was a safe distance and no one was following him, he sat down on a rock. "Now what?" He wondered to himself.

Sapphire was right. He hadn't kept his oath. Perhaps he should. He'd go down in history as a traitor, but at least he's conscience would be clear. He stood. To Windhelm it was.

The trip was long and his legs were sore when he arrived. But he was there. He entered Candlehearth hall and sat at the bar next to an Altmer woman. "Stupid elves." He thought. She looked at him with large round eyes, then took another swig of her mead. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a severe bun.

He noticed something glinting around her neck and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked at him irritably.

Her necklace. It was beautifully crafted, a gold chain with a gold pendant, the Stormcloak coat of arms on it, in a sapphire inlay. The disgrace of a High Elf wearing this symbol could not be forgiven. He ripped it off the women's neck harshly. She didn't say a word, rage written on her face. She brought up one glowing hand, and it was lights out.

When he woke up, he was lying in the street and she was standing over him. The necklace was hanging from her hand.

"You do not deserve that." Comjul said weakly, still disoriented.

"I don't deserve my deceased husband's coat of arms? I don't deserve something to hold onto after all that's been taken from me?" She asked sharply. "Why are Nords so hard-headed?" She asked, angrily wiping away a tear that was running down her face. She turned and stalked away.

"Did she say deceased husband? Ulfric was married to an elf? But how?" His mind was a mess as he struggled to make sense of all the new information. He wanted to ask the strange Altmer woman more questions, but she was gone.

The Stormcloaks fought the Empire for banning Talos worship. Of course, each man had other reasons that were his own, but that was largely what the official reason was. The Empire banned the worship of Talos thanks to the White-Gold Concordant that the Thalmor had forced the Empire to sign to end the Great War, The Thalmor were High Elves. Therefor, High Elves were the enemy.

But Ulfric married an elf. A friend of the enemy became the enemy. So did that make Ulfric an enemy of the Stormcloaks or a hypocrite? Either way, Comjul decided that his oath was to a hypocrite. A man who claimed one thing but did another. What oath can be taken seriously with that? His oath to that hypocrite was now void.


	8. Chapter 8

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter Eight<br>Sacrament

Comjul spent the next few weeks drinking himself senseless. He never seemed to wake up in the same place. Some of the more noticeable places he found himself included an ice shelf floating out to sea and on top of the Blue Palace.

After a night of especially heavy drinking, he was surprised to find himself, seemingly, in the same bed he had rented the previous night. The furs were soft and warm under him He opened his eyes to make sure that he was indeed in a bed and not on a frost spiders abdomen again. That had been interesting to say the least.

Well, he was in a bed alright. Just not the inns bed he had been expecting. A yong boy was sleeping beside the bed. The house seemed mostly empty and dark, despite a dim light coming from a room to the left of the room he was in. The far side seamed to be a stair case. He assumed that was the way out.

He sat up and the bed squeaked loudly. Comjul hissed in irritation. The boy by the bed shot upright. "Your up!" The young Nord boy yelled. "I knew you would come, I just knew it!"

"Shh...shh" Comjul growled, waving his right hand at the loud child. He rubbed his aching temple with the left.

"You're going to accept my contract now." She boy said, more quietly, but still incredibly loud.

"Shh...w-...wh-...what?" Comjul stuttered.

"You're from the Dark Brotherhood! An assassin, right? I did the black sacrament and now you're here!"

"Black Sacrament...Boy, that's the Dark Brotherhood." Comjul said, still rubbing his temples.

"I know! That's why you came! I want Grelod the Kind dead. I'll give you this family heirloom! Its supposed to be worth an awful lot!" The boy said quickly.

"Old bag from Riften?" Comjul asked.

"Yes! She's awful! I hate her!" The boy yelled.

"Okay, Okay." Comjul snapped, flinching as the boys shrill voice hit his ears. "Consider her dead." Comjul swallowed a quarter of a bottle of mead left over from the night before. The taste was less than pleasant. "Got a score to settle with her anyway." He mumbled and stood.

He hobbled to the door, his head still pounding when he stepped outside. He cringed at the daylight.

Comjul trudged along the road back to Riften. He hadn't bathed or taken his armor off in days. This was a decision he now regretted. His muscles were stiff and sore, he was painfully aware of just how slow he was moving.

It took him twice the time to travel to Riften as it had before. He probably should have waited tell he was in better condition to travel, but Comjul wasn't one to concern himself with self preservation.

He slept on the ground that night, by some springs to keep warm. He felt much better the next morning. He finished the journey by noon the next day.

He entered Honorhall and Grelod was talking to the orphans. He came in at the tail end of her threats towards them. "- extra beating. Do I make my self clear?"

"Yes Grelod." The children chimed at her, obediently.

"And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Ever! Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why, you're here. Why, you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world. Now, what do you all say?" The old woman screeched.

"We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness." The children replied automatically. To say they sounded insincere would be an understatement.

"That's better." The old lady said, almost sounding proud of herself. "Now scurry off, my little guttersnipes."

The disheartened children returned to cleaning.

Comjul left quietly and went to the Bee and Barb. Keerava looked at him suspiciously. "Don't I know you?" Comjul didn't say a word, just set a coin purse on the counter. She opened it and looked at him in surprise. "How long do you wish to stay?" Comjul didn't respond. "Fine, your room is right this way." The Argonian grumbled with a shrug.

Comjul was thankful for his scruffy appearance now. Kept the people of Riften from noticing him for who he was. He had no doubt that there was a Thieves Guild bounty on his head.

He rested until it was the wee hours of the morning. Everyone was sure to be asleep, or in their homes at the very least. He rose up from the bed and headed for Honorhall.

The inn was largely dead, a few stragglers that weren't going to last long before they passed out from the drink in their cup. They paid him no mind. The Argonians were too busy cleaning to notice him slip out.

He crossed the walkway to Honorhall without a problem, then began picking the lock. He was thankful for his time in the Thieves Guild.

Once the lock clicked open he smiled and entered the orphanage. As expected, all was quiet. The children were all sound asleep, looking thin, uncomfortable and unhappy. He snuck past them, finding Grelod the Kind asleep. He covered her mouth and slit her throat. After a few brief moments of some wet sounding gurgling noises, she went silent and limp. She was dead.

He left just as quietly as he had come in. He didn't bother returning to the inn. He headed straight for Windhelm.

The trip back didn't take as long as it had to get to Riften and was rather boring despite giants waving their clubs at him as he passed. He paid them no mind, knowing that they wouldn't bother pursuing him.

Comjul opened the door to the boys house quietly. But somehow the annoying child still heard him. He was peering up at Comjul with large round eyes within moments.

"So? Did you do it? Is Grelod...you know..."

"Yes" Comjul said simply.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The boy almost screeched. "When I grow up, I'm going to be an assassin. That way I can help lots of children, just like you."

"That kind of life isn't as good or exciting as you would think." Comjul warned.

The boy ignored him. "I'll go back to the Orphanage in a while. I'll give them time to, you know... clean up the mess." The boy said, sounding slightly disappointed. "Oh and here." He said handing Comjul an old looking plate.

Comjul looked at it...a useless plate. He sighed and left the house, selling it for one hundred septims at a shop.

He looked at the meager amount and sighed. At least it would be enough to put him up for the night at the Candlehall inn.


	9. Chapter 9

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter Nine<br>The Brotherhood

Comjul woke up feeling better than he had in a long time. It was nice to have the alcohol out of his system, and to actually wake up where he laid down for the night.

He didn't know what would happen since he had "stolen" the Dark Brotherhoods contract, but he was sure it wouldn't be good. So he spent the next few days wondering the country side even avoiding roads and small settlements. Surely he was just being paranoid? How could they possibly know?

A few nights later, he went to bed and when he woke, his head was in a fog and pounding. He rolled onto his back with a groan of pain. It felt like someone had tossed him around like a doll the night before. And dropped him a few times for good measure.

Upon observation of his surroundings, he realised he was in a shack. Blood and gore lined the floor and walls and was that some ones liver in the corner? Where was he? He looked around, taking in his surroundings, his throbbing head screaming in protest.

A bookshelf in the corner had a figure on top of it, but it didn't move. In front of him kneeled a man that appeared to be some sort of bandit, a lady, and a Kahjiit with black sacks over their heads and he assumed that their hands were tied behind their backs.

"Sleep well?" The being on top of the bookshelf asked suddenly. A soft, dangerous female voice assaulted his ears.

"Where are we?" He said flatly, hoping she didn't plan on saying too much. His head hurt.

"Does it matter? You're warm, dry... and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmm?" The amusement was clear in her tone.

"Surprised anyone knows." He grumbled. He was shocked some one actually missed the old bag.

"Half of Skyrim knows." The woman laughed coldly. "Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around. Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot. Ah, but there is a slight... problem. You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill... that you stole. A kill you must repay." The finality in her tone was unmistakeable, but he couldn't help but ask for clarification.

"OK and you want me to kill again?"

"Well now. Funny you should ask. If you turn around, you'll notice my guests. I've 'collected' them from... well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But... which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe... and admire." She spoke as if she were asking him to pick out a roast at the market, rather than kill another person.

He stood, feeling rather light headed. As he had suspected, she had drugged him. He didn't think anyone was stealthy enough to actually move him without his waking.

He wandered around each of his potential victims. He didn't try to hide his presence, and when they noticed he was near, they began to babble.

"Come now, I'm sure we can work some ting out. Remove my hood and let's talk about this like civilized folk." The Kahjiit said. He sounded confident, but Comjul could detect a trace of fear.

Almost as if the Kahjiit pleading had given her leave to speak, the old woman started screeching. "You better let me go right now, or by the gods I'll kill you when I do get free." She snapped.

Comjul just snickered at the old women, as he looked at the bandit. "Please I...I'm just a sell sword I don't want to die." The man begged, not bothering to mask his fear.

"Which one, which one?" He heard Astrid say behind him, almost as if she were singing the words. He had to admire her cold manner.

He has already made his choice. He didn't much care for mean old hags. He drew his dagger and pushed it into the black bag gently tell he found an eye. He sunk the dagger into the eye slowly. The old woman screamed in agony as it continued its slow journey into her skull.

Perhaps the only thing louder than the old bag was the mercenary's scream of terror. Then, as quickly as the screaming had begun, there was silence. The old woman went limp.

Comjul looked at the woman perched atop the bookshelf, who just sat looking at his handiwork.

"Come now, surely we can speak about this." The Kahjiit said calmly.

Comjul walked up to mysterious woman. "Ah the grumpy old hag, it had to be her... Right?" She cooed.

"I've repaid my debt." Comjul said flatly.

"So you have. And what a marvelous kill it was. But that's not really the point is it? I ordered you to kill and you obeyed. Simplicity itself. So why stop here? Join our family and you can kill all you want." He didn't say a word, but headed for the door. The woman continued. "Its west of Falkreath just off the road. The password is 'Silence, my brother.'"

Comjul didn't respond, but simply left the shack. He wandered around the shack for a little bit, attempting to identify his location. He moved back towards the shack.

Suddenly, he heard screaming in the shack and then...silence. It was then he realized. It didn't matter which one he killed. He had been set up, they wanted him to kill. And he had.

He would go. He would join. Was this where he was to belong?


	10. Chapter 10

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter Ten<br>Family

Judging by how cold it was, Comjul assumed he was north somewhere. So if he went south, he was bound to find a road.

Sure enough, a few hours into the walk he found Morthal. Falkreath was near Morthal. She had said Falkreath. Right? The cold was getting to him, causing his teeth to chatter.

He stuck to the roads, not really having any problems. He found Falkreath by simply following the road signs that had been so conveniently placed, so long ago that the words were faded. He headed west a little ways before he found what appeared to be a small cliff.

This was a strange place for a cliff. He slid down and looked under the cliff. He walked over to it and realizes it was more of a big hill. Once he reached the bottom, he nodded happily. There was a door.

The door was black and had a skeleton and a large skull on it. Upon closer examination the disembodied skull sported an encircled handprint that appeared to be painted in blood. It gave Comjul the chills. It seemed to almost breathe.

He began to wonder if perhaps this wasn't the best choice. He approached cautiously. A voice in his head, one that didn't belong there, suddenly invaded his senses. It wasn't loud, but somehow that made it more threatening "What, is the music, of life?"

The music of life? What insanity was this?! He shook his head. He would have none of this. Then he remembered.

"Silence, my brother." Comjul whispered softly, uncertainly. He cringed when he realized he sounded like the whelp he once was, when he was in training with the Stormcloaks.

"Welcome home." The door hissed and slid open of its own accord. He stepped in cautiously. The inside looked like a old nord crypt but it was better lit. He moved slowly, silently. The door closed as fast as it had opened behind him.

He rounded the corner, observing that a bench sat by the left wall and he peered into a room, seeing the woman from the shack inside it. She looked at him immediately.

"You think you can be quiet in that? You're not fooling anyone." She said with a laugh

He didn't respond but approached without worry of noise. "I hope you found the place all right." She continued lazily

"Odd place for a cliff. So what now?" He responded.

She seamed to smile. "Well you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. Your part of the family after all. This, as you can see, is our sanctuary. Your new home. So get comfortable. I'm Astrid, by the way."

He didn't know what to say. He was off by how friendly the assassin was. This seemed legitimate.

"Mmmm...yes the silence suites you, gives you an air of mystery. Now get to know your new family. Oh and one last thing, the armor of the Dark Brotherhood. May it serve you well in all your...endeavors." She said slyly, handing him a set of red and black armor. "I don't have any contracts for you right now."

She wandered  
>off. He continued into the sanctuary.<p>

"Again! Do the part where he tries to buy you some candy." He overheard as he approached a group. A young girl, maybe twelve winters, stood in the middle of a circle made up of a Nord, Breton, Dunmer, Argonian, and a Redguard.

"Okay, okay. Wait. Here we go." The young girl said, then changed her tone, as if to mimic an old man. "Ooh, you are such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie? Oh yes, how about some chocolate?" She went to her own voice. "Oh yes, please, kind sir. My mama and papa left me all alone, and I'm so very hungry. I know a shortcut to the candy shop. Through this alley." Then back to the mimicking voice. "Oh yeah, very good. Very good. My it is dark down here. Oh, but you are so beautiful. Such a lovely smile. Your teeth... your teeth! No! Aggghh!"

The dark elf said "Oh Babette, but you are so wicked."

"What about you, Festus? How did that last contract turn out?" The Redguard asked.

"Oh, yes, please, old man. Regale us with your tales of wizardry..." the Nord spat, rolling his eyes.

The old Breton sighed. "Ah, the young and stupid. Always mocking the experienced and brilliant. My contract went very well, I'll have you know. Tried a new spell. Little something I've been working on in my spare time. Came close to turning that priest inside out. Damned messy."

The dark elf seemed to smile. "And what of your latest, Arnbjorn. Something about a Kahjiit? Merchant was it?"

"Oh, a big doggy chasing a little kitty! How adorable!" The young girl said mockingly, her laugh giving Comjul chills.

The others laughed loudly.

The Nord snorted out. "I am not adorable, it was not funny, and he wasn't a merchant. He was a Kahjiit monk, a master of the Whispering Fang style. But now he's dead... and I have a new loincloth."

They all laughed again, then parted.

Comjul set out to find somewhere to change. He was almost thankful to be getting out of the Thieves Guild armor.

The armor fit tightly, which he was partly thankful for and a little annoyed with, at the same time. His smallclothes dug into him in a very uncomfortable manner almost instantly, but being so tight, it could fit under pretty much everything.

He wandered around the sanctuary, taking it all in. Soon he knew the Nords name was Arnbjorn and he was a werewolf, married to Astrid.

He discovered that Babette, the young girl from before, was a three hundred year old vampire.

The Dark Elf, Gabriella seemed to be a thinker, similar to himself. He liked her. Too bad she was a Dunmer. He might have been interested otherwise.

The Breton, Festus Krex, was a cranky old mage.

Veezara was a shadow skulker and seemed to know his stuff.

And the Redguard, Nazir, seemed to be the only one who understood the situation. As Comjul approached, he said. "So you're the newest member of our dwindling, dysfunctional family. I've heard quite a bit about you." He said with raised eyebrows.

He kept silent. Didn't really want to tell to much about himself.

"Ah the mysterious type. That may work for your targets, but I'm not so easily impressed." The man laughed coldly. "Did Astrid send you my way?" Comjul nodded.

"Did she now? Well I do have some contracts that I haven't had time to complete quite yet. These aren't exactly glamorous, don't pay much either. But they will keep you busy."

"Okay. So who's going to die?" Comjul asked quietly.

"Narfi, a beggar in Ivarstead. An ex-miller Ennodius Papius at Angas mill, and Beitild, a mine boss in Dawnstar." Nazir said, listing them quickly.

"Dead." Comjul said flatly, heading to a bed. He'd set out early the next day.


	11. Chapter 11

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter Eleven<br>Sweet Blood

Comjul woke early the next morning and looked at his map with a groggy sigh.

He'd hit Beitild first. Then Ennodius, and finally Narfi.

He stretched languidly for a moment, before he pulled on his Thieves Guild armor over his Brotherhood armor. He walked towards the door, and it opened itself. He flinched back for a moment. "Odd." He muttered as he exited the sanctuary.

He then set out and headed for Riverwood. For a small town, it was filled with people. Why was this place so busy? He worked his way through the crowd. A large man strode towards him, so he side stepped out of the way. Something hit him. Hard. The impact moved his hood half from his face. He spun around, ready for anything.

Angry words died in his throat. The woman staring up at him in irritation was stunning. Her long, bright copper colored hair was pulled back, but a few strands had escaped to frame her face. Pale blue eyes, the color of the sky, were fixed on him in surprise. Was she an Aedra? She was unlike any woman he had ever seen.

A large man moved behind her, looking at him with narrowed eyes. It was time to go. He wanted to ask her who she was, but he couldn't risk being noticed more than he already had been.

He straightened his hood and tried to vanish into the crowd, on his way to Dawnstar.

The trip to Dawnstar was uneventful. He was only bothered by a few wolves and frostbite spiders.

The mine boss was, of course, working. He wandered the town, almost bored, until she finally started moving. He followed her. She entered a house and he kept walking so as not to alert the guards. Once out of sight, he took off the Thieves Guild armor and stashed it behind a bush.

He waited an hour or so before he turned and went back through the town. He snuck around her house, but only found one way in. He frowned and let out an irritated huff. He picked the lock without much trouble. She was in bed. He stood over her, wondering how to kill her. A simple sword to the neck? Or should he make it more complex? Did it matter? Dead was dead.

A thought came to him when he spotted a pile of leather strips sitting on her dresser. He tied leather strips together and tied it to her legs then to the bed and the same with her wrists as she snored away. He then he took a log from the fire and put it under then bed. He left silently, knowing everyone would think that her demise was an accident.

Once out of the house, he ran for the bush where he had stashed his Thieves Guild armor. He pulled it on quickly and looped around the mountain, to head for a main road.

As he went, he stumbled upon a shrine. It had a beautiful statue of a woman. He almost laughed when his tired mind projected the features of the girl from Riverwood onto the statue. "Dibella" was engraved on the strange thing in front of it. It was beautiful. He forced himself away. He had things to do.

"Now for Ennodius." He thought.

Once at the road, he glanced at his map and headed southeast. He decided to continue through the night, knowing he would be less likely to be noticed in the dark.

He pushed further east, trying to keep his mind from wandering.

Ennodius was by the river as Comjul came about. No one was around and Comjul smiled at his good fortune. He kicked the mans knee, sending him to his knees. Comjul put his own knee on the mans back and pushed his head into the water. The man struggled and flailed, but not for long. After he went limp, Comjul pushed him into the water, watching the river swallow its prize.

"Now for Narfi in Ivarstead."

The journey to Ivarstead was dull, and Comjul struggled to stay awake. The sun was just starting to set, so he settled into some bushes to hide until nightfall.

When night came, he rose from the bushes as quietly as he was able and headed into the destroyed house that he saw Narfi slip into.

He snuck over to where the begger lay, but to Comjuls surprise, Narfi was awake.

"Why hide you in bushes?" He asked curiously, tilting his head to the side.

"Because Sithis calls." Comjul replied quietly.

"What? No no!" Narfi began, but Comjul had already drawn his sword and plunged it into Narfis chest. The begger went limp almost instantly.

Comjul turned southwest to go over the mountain. "Time to go home." Comjul thought with a sad smile.

The only interesting part of his journey to Helgen included sneaking after a pair of Vigilants of Stendarr. His stealth technique was getting better. They had no clue he was there. He did this all the way to Helgen but once there...

What had happened?! It had been destroyed! Now it was almost completely rebuilt. Who or what did this? He entered, gawking at it all. Whoever had done this must have been wealthy. A silver tongue would be required to get the spoiled moron of a Jarl in Falkreath to sell the land.

Comjul entered the gate and wandered what had once been his hometown. He passed the inn and stared at it. They had made it look almost the same. Except the wood didn't look as old. Everything looked almost the same, it was a little eerie.

He eventually found what had once been his parents home. He walked onto the porch and stood, closed his eyes enjoying the sun. He had done this more times than he could count.

He held his hands out and drew a deep breath. But, in this moment of peace, his exhaustion and grief hit hard. He suddenly smelled burning flesh and heard screams of terror as a dragon attacked once more. His eyes flew open.

"Comjul inside!" A female voice called.

No! Not this time! "Mum get out of the street!" Comjul yelled. He saw his mother standing there, clear as day. He blinked rapidly and her image morphed into a startled dog. Where had she gone?!

The dog lay down, its ears flat against its head. He blinked and his mother was before him, being consumed by flames. He burst into tears. A familiar male voice broke him from his grief. "Comjul over here!"

His father stood in the exact spot that the dragon had swooped down and grabbed him. He shook his head and a confused looking man took his fathers place, but only for a moment.

"Da! Drop! Before-" Comjul bellowed. But it was too late. In his mind his father was gone. He closed his eyes, tears running down his face.

When he opened them again, he was in Windhelm. The Imperials were everywhere! Dead Stormcloaks littered the ground, but vanished as he moved forward. He looked around, breathing heavily. He watched two Imperials and a man in black armor walk into the Palace of the Kings. No! Ulfric!

This time Ulfric wouldn't be alone.

Comjul drew his sword and with a savage, animalistic like yell charged at what was really the gates of Helgen.

No one stopped him.

Comjul ran as fast ask he could until he spotted the man in black armor, and spun him. "I'm going to watch you die!" He spit.

However, when the man in black turned, Comjul staggered back, almost dropping his sword. "S-...sa-...sapphire?!" He said, stumbling back. He whipped around when he heard a sword being pulled from its sheathe. Thrynn?! How? He wasn't able to ponder long before Thrynn attacked. He spun and lopped off his head again, the top of a sapling falling at his feet.

His head whipped left. Mercer. Comjul attacked, swinging hard. A branch fell and the sword buried itself into mercers stomach.

Mercer began to laugh mockingly at him. Comjul fought to get his sword out of Mercers mocking visage, but he couldn't. He watched as the Bretons blood ran to the ground, but it seemed to vanish immediately. What trickery was this?!

Comjul fought and fought for his sword. But in the end, his body collapsed from exhaustion. He knew no more. Only darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

A Nord Fallen  
>Chapter Twelve<br>The Monster

Comjul woke with his head pounding but feeling well rested. Though, something was off, he couldn't place it. He didn't feel like himself. Something was missing.

He opened his eyes. Where was he? He tryed to sit up but a small furry hand set on his shoulder and gently pushed him down.

"This one does not think you are ready for physical activity." He heard a rough voice purr sweetly.

"Huh?" Was his response while he was looking around. He noticed a female Kahjiit with charcoal gray fur and darker gray stripes.

"Rest." She said, shooting him a smile. "You were not feeling well, so Nevah's husband brought you here."

"Where's my sword?" Comjul asked, settling down to make the stupid cat happy.

"Sword? Nevah does not know. You did not enter here with a sword." She said, tilting her head to the side, her golden eyes glowing in the dim light.

"Terrific." Comjul said disappointed, hopeing it was still in the tree. "When can I leave?"

"When this one believes you ready." She said, looking stern. "The healing takes time."

"And what do I need to do, to do that?" He asked irritably, rolling his eyes.

"Rest." The cat said, sending him another smile before retreating to another room.

Comjul waited until she was out of sight, then sat up and took in his surroundings. There wasn't much; a fire and cookware were the only defining things in the room. Besides the bed he was on, of course.

He was glad to see a door in his room. He only hoped of went out side. But where was he? How far from Helgen had he made it?

Comjul opened his mouth to yell at the cat, but thought better of it. If he did that, who knew how long it would be before he could sneak out. Not that it mattered, he could always kill the cat.

"That's odd." He thought. "Why am I thinking about killing some one who's not my target? Granted she's beast folk but... no she was Khajiit, not man or mer but an animal. It would be considered hunting." He smiled mirthlessly at the thought, and grabbed a nearby pack that looked like his.

He rummaged through it. Good, it was all there and looked untouched. He smiled wider, and silently swung his legs off the bed and got to his feet, holding his pack.

He slid his hood back over his head and moved for the door.

The door swung open with little effort and noise. Whoever hung it knew what they were doing. Good. The cat would be none the wiser.

He looked around and realized he was back in Helgen. Damn.

He headed for the gate he assumed he exited the before. The sun was low west. Soon it would be dark.

Outside the city, he found where he had done a number on a tree and sighed at his sword still firmly implanted in the tree.

He grabbed ahold and fought vigorously to dislodge it. After a good half hour, he finally managed to get it out. Shocked the ordeal hadn't bent it, he turned for the Sanctuary.

He was lost in thought the entire journey back to the Sanctuary. It was dark by the time he got to there. He trudged towards the black door and it opened for him immediately. "Still odd." He grumbled.

He went in and found Nazir sitting at a table, drinking wine. "They're all dead." Comjul told him, choosing to forgo pleasantries.

Nazir dropped the coin into his hands. Comjul didn't bother to count it. He didn't question the sarcastic Redgaurd.

"Astrids looking for you brother." Nazir informed Comjul, before walking away.

Comjul sighed and went looking for Astrid. He found her standing over a table, staring at a large map. As soon as he appeared, she began to speak. "Good you're back. I trust your other targets were no problem." It wasn't a question, but Comjul answered anyway.

"No ma'am, easy honestly." Comjul replied politely.

"Good. There's a woman in Whiterun who's apparently been doing the Black Sacrament. Ysolda is her name. Be professional and represent us well." Astrid finished, not bothering to look up.

"Consider it done." Comjul said with a nod. She didn't reply. He turned and walked further into the Sanctuary. Time for a meal and bed. He wasn't really tired, but he'd rather not travel all night.

He sat in the corner of the dining room, while the others sat around the table laughing and joking. "Okay Babette, it's bed time." Nazir said.

"Aw... can I at least get a bed time story?" She asked, looking to Nazir and Festus hopefully, not a hint of sarcasm in her deceptively angelic features.

"Okay, okay. One. For an old woman, you're quite demanding." Nazir said. The eternal youth just stuck her tongue out at the Redguard petulantly.

Festus leaned back. "Have I ever told you about the Monster of the Void?" He asked, sounding ominous.

Babette shook her head, her eyes wide.

"Well. You and I are bringers of death." Festus continued. "We send souls through the Void to Sithis. But like any hole, sometimes, The Void gets full. And when this happens Sithis gets to send something out. Something none of us are ready for. Sometimes he's an expert killer. Other times its a beast without equal."

"Like Alduin!" Babette chirped brightly.

"Exactly." The old man said. "No matter who or what form it comes out as, it comes out deadly and it always changes the Era." The old man finished dramatically. Nazir herded Babbette to bed after she said good night to all.

Comjul nodded in response to the child and finished his meal, thinking about the old mans story before he headed for bed, chiding himself for listening to children's tales.


End file.
